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Three Poems

In the Bay of Biscay Deep into the sea Lives ObadiahThe giant Nautilus.

Obadiah is obsessed. I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.

In the Bay of BiscayDown in the briny deepLive the little blind girls.

Benedicamus Domino, they shout to ObadiahLet us bless the Lord— But Obadiah is obsessed.

In the Bay of BiscayLittle blind girls wear blue dresses with mandarin collarsAnd they pray and pray.

Obadiah, the giant NautilusEats the fish the little blind girls scale and clean for him.

Dominus vobiscum, they shout to ObadiahThe Lord be with you— But Obadiah is obsessed.

The girls are unhappy. They dress candles in vinegarThey steal sugar and cigarettes from Obadiah— They are bored living on the sea-bedPast Abyssinian breeding-maresPast saltwater apple-treesThey do not know how to practice self-restraintI am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.

The Book of Recondite Facts

Let’s declare ourselves a long way from homeThey say that a priest on a boat often caused shipwreck

Let’s chat the hours awayIn most agrarian societies, it is the custom to marry after the crops are harvested

Let’s tuck in our shirts and go out with a single pain in our mindsBlindfolded men cannot distinguish severe burning from severe freezing

There must be an end of trifling and even time must have a stopThe carotid pulse is the last pulse you lose before you die

Let’s throw away the oars caked with moss and musselsCatholic priests were blinded by having lime and vinegar rubbed into their eyes

Let’s stay in a boat in the middle of the seaSalt consists of two substances, which are poisons, sodium and chlorine.

Let’s fool the siren call of sleep by reciting factsKR: abbreviation in chess for “king’s rook”

The strangeness that we can never work outPilgrims coming from Santiago de Compostela wore cockleshells in their hats—

Yes, the smell of oatmeal and antiseptic from the kitchenYes, you wonder how many things in the world deserve your loyaltyWell can’t you see I have cake in my mouth?

I’ll tell you something if you promise not to get mad— All you need is a strong sense of what is fittingFacts, like love really, are most unreliableThey are shadows of rabbits made by hands on the wallThey smell like burnt mineralThey are only as strong as China teaThey have no patience with anyoneAnd one day they’ll cause you a lot of unhappiness.

One Chair

We’re in an empty roomWhere there is only one chairAnd you’re sitting on it. There is nowhere else for me to sit.

I move around the roomAnd while we talkWithout frettingPretending there’s nothing unusual in itI stop before you and I sit on your knees.

You act as if nothing forbidden has happened. After all, there is no other chairSurely no one can stay standing for a long time, One must get a rest.

And it is while I am on your lapFeeling entitled Because of necessityThat I begin to store happiness. What we don’t eat in seasonWe’re canning for the winter.

You’re talking on and onBut this is less an affair of dictionYou and I know more. You pretend there are no sad, large pieces around usAnd you’re staring at my ankles dangling in the air.

We don’t know what’s going to happen to us. What can you do with love not allowed? Having so intensely imagined ourselves as carefree peopleWe remain seated. You and I can withstand very cold water.